A Genetic Condition & The Great Physician

 

Elizabeth Brown shares her powerful testimony from her journey as a Secret Service Officer to navigating the pain of miscarriages and the challenges of her son's genetic diagnosis. She's the Founder and President of the Hive and Hope Foundation, whose mission is to improve the quality of life and bring hope to children with complex special needs and their families affected by critical illnesses, genetic conditions, and epilepsy.

Elizabeth shared her testimony on a Truth, Talk & Testimonies broadcast.

Elizabeth's testimony is also on VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies podcast platforms.

Before you had your precious son, Becket, your first child, you had a few challenging pregnancies. Could you share about these?

Absolutely. My husband and I got married in October 2020, and we felt the Lord tell us to start trying to grow our family in the summer of 2021, so we obeyed the Lord and got pregnant almost immediately, which was wonderful and such a blessing, and then, unfortunately, we lost that baby early on. Nobody had ever spoken to me about miscarriages or what to expect or anything, so quite honestly, I didn’t even know I was going through a miscarriage until it was over. I went to the OBGYN, and she confirmed that I had a miscarriage, and it was heartbreaking. After I got cleared by the doctors to try again, we prayed about it, and we felt peace to try again. After a few months, we got pregnant with triplets. That was a giant shock, but multiples run in my family. We were ecstatic and said, “Oh my gosh, the Lord is blessing us with a double portion." We made it almost until the second trimester, and I began cramping, and I said, “Well, there are three of them in there, so it could be normal that I’m feeling this way.” Then, I passed one of the babies at home, and immediately, I told my husband we had to go to the emergency room. Thankfully, the emergency room was less than five minutes from our house, but unfortunately, that’s where I passed my babies, and that was very hard because I knew what was happening at that point. The experience felt like a stolen promise, and it was a devastating time for us both. I had to take off of work to mourn the losses of my four babies. After losing our four kids, I would rather not try again for a while because I was afraid, traumatized, upset, and sorrowful. However, after much praying, we got cleared by the doctors. We waited a few months, tried, and then got pregnant with our son Becket. Becket was born in October 2022, and it was such a blessed pregnancy and easy—the only thing that wasn’t easy was just being paranoid and battling anxiety because of my previous losses, so of course, I was terrified. Still, I had to fight a lot of fear during that time, and the Lord spoke to me during pregnancy and gave me worship songs and scriptures and had random people from the church that I didn’t even know what happened previously come up to me and say, “This child shall live and not die.” They prophesied life over my son. I had Becket, and then about when he was five weeks old, on Thanksgiving Day of 2022, we started to notice these episodes—we didn’t know what happened or what could have caused it. Still, he began to shake uncontrollably; his eyes were fluttering, his extremities were tensing up and then shaking, and my husband and I were so scared. We had never seen anything like that before as first-time parents, so we took him to the emergency room that night.

Did they give any indication of what was going on with Becket? Did they have any idea at that point?

Unfortunately, no. The episode stopped, and Becket’s vitals looked fine, so the emergency room doctor checked him as much as he could and told us to bring him back if it happened again. They had no answers, so this began the long journey of my husband and me researching, reading, trying to see what was going on, and watching YouTube videos to try to link what happened to our son to what information could be out, to what the cause could have been.

You shared, too, that you went through postpartum depression. When did that come into play? Was that with your pregnancy with Becket?

My postpartum happened after I gave birth to Becket. I was a brand new mother and very sleep-deprived; the challenges that came with nursing and being unfamiliar with my baby started postpartum, and then Becket’s episodes drove it home and were a kind of the nail in the coffin for postpartum for me. I didn’t know what was going on with my baby, and I had no idea how to help him—he was suffering, and I had no idea what to do. 

I know that postpartum could present itself with different symptoms for different women. What were your symptoms?

I went through a lot of rage. I think that was my number one symptom, and also I had a lot of anxiety. Furthermore, I didn’t eat very much, and then other days, I overate. It was hard for me to go outside, even though I knew I needed to go outside, and I was not pleasant to be around. There’s a difference when you’re tired and sleep-deprived and all the usual things that come with having a brand new baby, but then there’s the other side where your heart is hard, and you treat people differently than you usually would. I was particularly nasty to my husband, father, and stepmother-in-law because they came from Florida to help me, and I didn’t treat them very well.

How did you become Becket’s advocate? And how did the Holy Spirit help lead and guide you and your husband as you noticed more symptoms with Becket? 

So, after the emergency room visit, we noticed he had more episodes each day. It became a daily thing and then multiple times per day, and the symptoms presented about the same as before. There was eye fluttering and tensing up of his extremities, and then there were times when it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and struggled to breathe. We took him to his former pediatrician and showed her the logs we’d written, and we had a shared note in our iPhone where we wrote down the time of the episode, the characteristics, how long they lasted, and the frequency. We also took some pictures and videos to show her, and she looked at it and said, “Oh, it looks like it might be reflux—a severe form of reflux and maybe Sandifer syndrome.” We didn’t know what Sandifer’s was, so we looked it up, and it was just like she said: it’s a symptom of a reflex where it looks like a baby is having a seizure, but it occurs after they feed. So we thought that looked like what Becket was going through, but something inside us, the Holy Spirit, told us there was more going on and wrong, and we needed to investigate it more. During this time, of course, we sought the Lord and prayed, and at this point, we tried to figure out what was wrong with our son. At times, it was difficult to hear God, even though He was constantly speaking to us—it was hard for us to hear due to our anxieties. We kept advocating for Becket. After visiting the pediatrician initially, I would send her messages on this app called My Chart and give her updates at least once a week. I was that mom because I wanted to make sure they had all the information they needed to try to help my son. Eventually, I went to the pediatrician again, and he had an episode in front of her in real-time. She looked at me and said, “This looks like it could be a seizure.” Previously, though, she was saying it could be colic; it could be the period of purple crying, which purple stands for something, but I forget what it stands for. Still, until this point, she would say other things that could be so; after she saw the episode happen, she referred us to a neurologist. About a week and a half later, we got in to see the neurologist. Still, we didn’t know that it was via Tella Health at an off-site location, so when we went into the doctor’s office and went to the back, this computer rolled in front of us, and the neurologist was through the screen, and he asked us if we could show him a video of the episodes. We put our phone up to the screen and showed him one video, and within 10 seconds, the neurologist said, “Nope, it’s not seizures—it’s reflux.” My husband and I said, “Are you sure because you only looked at it for 10 seconds?” Something was still not sitting right with us. The physician’s assistant took him at his word, and the appointment ended. At that point, my husband and I knew we needed to get an EEG done to get further information that could tell if Becket was having seizures. We had to fight and advocate with the physician's assistant for a few minutes, but she finally said okay and referred us to have an EEG done. We felt we had a victory in getting what we asked for, and a few days later, we got admitted. Becket had the EEG, but no episodes appeared within the two hours during the test. The doctors said, “Hey, he’s not having seizures—he’s fine, so continue the reflex medicines.” My husband and I looked at each other again, and we asked the doctors, “Are you sure because he didn’t even have an episode—How can you know for sure?” We respect what the doctors do and their expertise, but we are the experts of our child, and we knew that something was still wrong, and the doctor kept saying he was okay. Nick and I took our sweet son back home, and the episodes continued and worsened. I did everything I could and went on a total elimination diet or TED. I eliminated a wide range of foods, including milk, dairy, and eggs, to investigate potential effects on my son’s health, which further complicated my breastfeeding journey, as I believed my son’s milk was causing him harm. We also put him on a formula that didn’t work—he was on a bunch of reflux medications that didn’t work, and he eventually went on a specialized amino acid-based formula that also didn’t work. We were so frustrated. It was around five months of constantly going back and forth, always, My Charting his pediatricians and specialists, everybody—and I was also called a paranoid first-time mom by one of the doctors, and it made me question if I was paranoid, but the Holy Spirit kept me strong. Both Nick and I knew there was something wrong. Eventually, I went to the specialist and said, “Hey, I’m taking my son to another hospital. I don’t trust you guys because you haven’t listened to us. I’m advocating for my son and know something is very wrong." At that time, I took him to a new pediatrician in another state who is still Becket’s current pediatrician. He had an episode in front of him, and the pediatrician looked at me and said, “What are you doing? You need to take him to the emergency room right now! This is a seizure.” God used my son’s current pediatrician to confirm that everything that we were feeling, everything that we were sensing, was correct. After his current pediatrician told us this, we took him to the emergency room in another state, and they admitted him and ran a 24-hour EEG, confirming that he indeed was having seizures. With this news, it felt like the floor beneath us just broke. We knew there was something more profound wrong, but to have it confirmed by a doctor was excruciating and very upsetting, so we both cried a lot and told the neurologist that he was going to be doing a genetic swab test in our mouth to confirm and help figure out a potential cause. Hence, they did a genetic test on Becket first, and we had the results back within a week and had a phone call. The neurologist said, “Your son has a rare genetic condition that is causing his seizures called Tuberous Sclerosis Complex, or TSC, which is a condition with no cure, and it produces non-cancerous tumors to grow in various parts of your body—in your eyes, brain, kidneys, lungs, and heart." A lot of the time, TSC is also the leading genetic condition for autism, so once we heard that Becket had TSC, the neurologist asked us if they could swab me and Nick to ensure that we didn’t have it. When we got the tests back, we discovered that Nick has TSC. It’s interesting because TSC is such a broad spectrum, and Nick has never had a seizure and presents no symptoms. In contrast, Becket has uncontrollable seizures despite several anti-epileptic drugs that he’s on.

What happened at the end of 2023 that took a turn for the worse?

After doctors diagnosed Becket in May 2023, he received the necessary treatment, assistance, and therapies, and things looked good. In September, we decided to go to Minnesota to see his godparents and then, right after, go to Texas to see my mother-in-law to spend time with family. They all loved seeing him, and he had a great time being on a boat for the first time. All of a sudden, his seizures got so bad that he would have about 100 seizures per day, and although they were quick, they were frequent. It got to the point where his lips turned blue, and he stopped breathing with almost every seizure, even for a little so even though the seizures were short, they occurred so frequently that each time he stopped breathing, it was horrible for him. Nick and I laid hands on him and prayed; his godparents are strong Christians, and we were in an excellent household full of Christians who laid hands on him and worshiped around him, bringing so much peace. So, after these seizures kept occurring, we reached out to his neurologist back home via My Chart. We told her what was going on and jumped on phone calls and told them they were so bad and that Becket, Nick, and I weren’t getting any sleep because every time he was awake, he was having a seizure. After sharing this with the neurologist, she said, “You guys are going to Houston, so I know the neurosurgeon there. Maybe neurosurgery is your next step?” Becket was on a bunch of medication and a rescue medication that was strong and was supposed to stop his seizures once they met a particular criterion, but it didn’t stop them at all. We responded that we were 100% on board to talk about surgery. When we got to Houston, it was by God’s grace that we got to have an appointment with this neurosurgeon because, typically, it takes months to get on the books to meet with him. We met him within a few days of being in Houston, and he sat us down and gave us our options and said we needed to do a presurgical workup. He explained that the presurgical workup involved X, Y, and Z, and that we would likely need a two-week stay. They sent us home that day, and then Nick returned to West Virginia for work, while I chose to stay with my mother-in-law and Becket to ensure his well-being and allow for a quick return to the hospital if necessary. A lot was going on at that time. One day, while we were watching TV, Becket started to have a terrible seizure, and it lasted longer than usual. He wasn’t breathing, and the color of his face was changing. I looked at my mother-in-law and said, “We need to go to the emergency room right now!” She took us to Texas Children’s Hospital to the emergency room, and what was supposed to be a couple of days stay ended up being an almost three-month stay with a couple of emergency brain surgeries. I called Nick and told him everything, and they got us a room, and we went up to the epilepsy monitoring unit at Texas Children’s Hospital. They began the presurgical workup, which took a few weeks, and during that time, it was very lonely because Nick was back home for work—he didn’t have generous paid time off at the time and had no option to work from home. His job knew what was happening, so they tried to accommodate him as much as possible, but he still couldn’t stay with us, so it was me, the Lord, and Becket. It was isolating. After he got the presurgical workup done, he had his first brain surgery when he turned one-year-old. Nick and I were so hopeful. The whole day, Becket was in surgery, and I was a complete mess, but I tried to keep my mind busy. I walked downtown, drank much coffee, prayed, and wrote in. Then, about 8-10 hours later, I received a call that Becket was done, so I ran to the hospital, and Nick met me there after arriving at the airport. We saw Becket in the recovery room, and as soon as we walked into his room, he had a seizure. Nick and I couldn’t believe it; we thought it was a nightmare because we were so hopeful that he would be seizure-free after his surgery. The seizure was so bad that we needed to be transferred to the ICU, and as he was transferred to the ICU, his oxygen and heart rate tanked. There were several nurses there who were trying to bag him and ensure his heart rate and oxygen came back up—there were probably close to 15-20 people in the ICU room, trying to get him to breathe, so Nick and I almost lost him, and it was a tough time for us, but the doctors and nurses there are phenomenal, and they got him back to where he needed to be, but it was during that time when the neurosurgeon came up and said, “I’m so sorry—sometimes this happens. We’re going to try again; we’re going to do all the presurgical workups again, draw the labs, the MRIs, and all the scans to ensure that we can get this because something went wrong and we didn’t get what we needed to get.” He took responsibility and was humble. Dr. Howard Weiner is incredible. Nick and I were mad, upset, and scared, but God had us there for a reason, and regardless of what the journey looked like—we knew it would help many more people than our sweet son, so we stayed steadfast and partnered with Dr. Weiner and trusted it would work out. During this time, a lot of the nurses would come in to try to bag Becket with oxygen—his seizures were short but severe to the point where his oxygen would tank quickly, but then come up quickly. They would rush in to bag him because the monitor lagged, and they were bagging him when he was completely fine, so I advocated for him and said, “Hey, I understand what you’re doing. The monitors beeped, but he’s okay now.” I told the nurses this several times and let them know that I was watching him like a hawk and that I would let them know if things didn’t look good and that I understood that they were trained to do what they were doing, but as a person constantly watching him, he’s okay. That was a partnership that I needed to establish with our medical team. Fast forward, Becket got his new presurgical workup done, and then he had a second brain surgery about three weeks after his first. Nick and I were nervous wrecks—he just turned one in November. We prayed to God and told Him we trusted Him 100% with our whole hearts. We’re not going to lean on our understanding or what the doctors say, even though God uses medicine and doctors, and it’s an incredible blessing. However, we understand that His Word is final; His Word states that we are healed by His stripes. We kept declaring scripture over him and worshiping. We had other people from other churches that I didn’t even know come by and pray over us, visitors who gave us food, gift cards, and coffee. I lived off of coffee—I still do, but especially back then. Becket had his second brain surgery, and when he came out, he was babbling and laughing and being his silly self and wanted to eat, which was incredible. We were excited. Becket was seizure free for about six months, and then, unfortunately, his seizures came back last Easter. It has been an incredible journey with our sweet Becket. His seizures aren’t as bad as they were before surgery, which is such a blessing that he’s stable and still on medication, but he’s advancing so much. He’s almost two and a half, about to walk, babbling a lot, and has a few words under his belt, and he’s such a fantastic kid. We are still on this journey but strongly believe in the Lord. The Lord was and is so close to us; we have unshakable hope in Him.

Truth, Talk & Testimonies

God Specializes in the Impossible

 

Despite the trials, including the struggle in her marriage and a personal crisis in faith, Jamie found her way back to Christ, showing how God used her hardships as a pathway to redemption. She shares the poignant story of her husband's battle with PTSD, their separation, and the incredible reconciliation that followed.

This testimony highlights God's enduring love and the miraculous power of prayer, demonstrating that He is present even in the darkest moments. Whether you're searching for hope or witnessing someone else's struggle, Jamie's story reminds you that with God, nothing is impossible.

Jamie shared her testimony on a Truth, Talk & Testimonies broadcast. 

Jamie's testimony is also on VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies podcast platforms.

How old were you when you gave your life to Christ?

My parents raised me in a Christian home—we joke that I was born on a Sunday, and then the following Sunday, I was at church, and that was pretty much my whole experience growing up. I remember my dad leading me to the Lord, when I was four. My dad walked me through the Roman road to salvation, and I believe it was a Wednesday night when I came home from church asking questions. He made it very simple to understand that I was a sinner even at the age of four—we’re all born sinners—and that Jesus was the only way to forgive sins and to go to heaven.

When you went to college, were you still following Christ there too?

Yes. My parents ensured we were in church and were there whenever the doors opened. I went to a private Christian school, K-12, and after that, I went to a local secular university where I was on fire for God. I led a Bible study on campus, and my faith was very grounded—the worldview of a secular education didn’t affect me. What happened to me reminds me of the scripture that talks about how Satan is like a roaring lion walking to and fro seeking whom he can devour, and it just takes a small opening to start getting in trouble. One benefit of being saved at such a young age is that you are sheltered from many influences and things that can cloud your faith. Still, on the catch side, sometimes when you’re saved at such a young age, you’re so sheltered or protected that your faith kind of never really has an opportunity to grow like a muscle or grow and be exercised because, again, you’re insulated, and so it was after college that was the first time that my faith had been tested—some things were going on in our church in terms of division. There were people I looked up to that I saw doing things that I knew were not biblical, and for the first time in my life, it caused me to step back and say, “Well, if this is how God lets his people do things or live, then what’s the point of following God?” If He’s in control and this stuff still happens, what’s the point? We have free will, but our lives should align with scripture and the fruit of the spirit if we’re true Christians. And this was the quick dive of turning my back on my faith for some time.

What happened next? 

After college, I moved away for what began as law school, but became graduate school instead, so I moved from North Carolina to Virginia. This was the first time being on my own as an adult, so here I am—I’m 21—and the first time living away from my parents, and it was sort of that perfect storm of freedom as a young adult plus questioning: not necessarily salvation but God’s plan and sovereignty and no one was hovering over my shoulder saying, “How’s your walk with the Lord?” It’s easy to walk the walk still and talk the talk over the phone or when you go home to visit—to act one way and do the other.

What kind of things were going on that you were drifting slowly from the Lord, but it started to happen quickly?

It was in about six months—that’s how quickly it all began. I distinctly remember being in my car in a parking lot before I moved to Virginia, and I was trying to pray. I felt like my prayers were bouncing off the hood of my car, and I didn’t think that God was hearing me. I got angry and so mad at God, and I told Him in my anger that if this is how He treats His children, I don’t want any part of Him. I decided that day that everything I knew was wrong, and I was going to do and figure out what I’d been missing out on. Those rebellious seeds sprouted and took off like a wild vine.

Was it during that time that you met your husband?

Not long after. I moved to Virginia in August 2009. I met my husband in August 2010, so within one year and during that year, if you did not know me, you would have thought being a Christian was the last thing you would have thought I was. Now again, I could pretend when I was around other Christians, but I also quickly figured out how to blend in with the world. It was at that time that I met my husband—I was actually in England at the time, participating in a summer abroad program for grad school, and we ended up meeting online because I didn’t know very many people in Virginia and the school I went to, oddly enough, was a Christian university, so the irony was not lost but I knew at the time I did not want to meet anyone at the university that was not a goal—I was too deep in the rebellion. I ended up meeting my husband online, and when I came back from England to return to Virginia, we went on our first date on August 3rd, 2010. It was a quick romance—we had much in common and similar interests. He had been in the Navy, so he had a lot of life experience and traveled—it was an instant connection, and he had no religious background—so he was perfect for me at the time. He didn’t meet his dad until he was 16, so he grew up with his mom, the family’s black sheep. You could say she moved far away from family, so it was just him and his mom, and he grew up completely non-religious. When he was in his teens and early 20s, he was exposed to a lot of different religions–he went to a mosque, he went to a Buddhist temple, went to a Mormon temple–he dabbled in pretty much every major religion, more from an anthropological sense of wanting to understand the cultures.  

Did you get married soon after you started dating?

Yeah. We got married on the second anniversary of our first date, August 3rd, 2012, in North Carolina, and about a week later, I started my first-year teaching. We were, you know, young, married, happy, and excited to be starting our lives together.

What happened before your second anniversary? 

Because I was a teacher, I had summers off. We decided to take an epic road trip out west because he had grown up in Colorado, and I’d never traveled past the Mississippi, so I was very eager to explore. And we decided we have the time and money–let’s do it, so we left North Carolina and went to Texas. We went and picked up his mom. A few weeks before our second anniversary, we traveled north through New Mexico, Colorado, up to Idaho, and back down. We were in Jackson Hall, Wyoming, and had just visited the Teton mountain range and had the trip of a lifetime, and we were exploring a coffee shop. I had just sat down with my drink, and he just turned to me and calmly and nonchalantly said, “I want a divorce; our marriage is over,” and this came out of nowhere. We had been on vacation, and we hadn’t been fighting, and I remember thinking, “Can we at least fight first?” It was out of the blue and almost like a sick joke. It was shocking and completely out of left field. After recovering from the shock, I tried to ask him if he was serious. And why was he doing this?

I mentioned earlier that my husband was in the Navy. I knew that he had PTSD; that was something that we had talked about when we were dating, but I honestly didn’t understand PTSD—it’s not just one of those things that you have and it goes away—it’s something that, much like depression, can flare up. I was very ignorant of it, and to a degree, my husband was too. One of the things about PTSD is it causes emotional detachment. The reason is it’s almost a defense mechanism—I’m going to push someone I love away so that I don’t drag them down the hole with me—I’m going to save them from my demons or darkness, so that’s one of the big reasons why so many people with PTSD end up not living, or their marriages tend not to work. It’s a very dark time for so many.

So, were you separated from your husband for a long time, or did you get divorced?

I convinced him to at least come back from our trip. He was still enrolled in college and had already paid the tuition. I told him that he might as well finish the semester, and he agreed. I felt like that was a win. At least I convinced him to come home. I thought he would be reasonable and understand once we returned to our routine. That was naïve. When we got home, we walked into a storm reflective of what was happening in our lives. Our apartment was inundated with a water leak from the unit above us. You can imagine the July heat in North Carolina; it was infested with mold, so we walked in from our marriage being over to you can’t live here anymore, so we went into survival mode by pushing our emotions to the back burner to let’s try to figure out where we’re going to sleep tonight. That got us through for about a month, and then school started back for me that August and my husband also was in school.

We coexisted as roommates for a while, and I was trying to navigate this new normal of him being home. We were married, but he was still adamant about leaving in December when his semester ended. I was wondering why and still didn’t understand, and he couldn’t quite explain it—it was one of those things of I’m doing this because I love you, which was so counterintuitive in my world—I was like, "Well, if you love me, why are you leaving me?" So, I couldn’t get past this. We lived in the same house for that semester but were strangers. I didn’t know my husband anymore—he was like a stranger. In December, a week before Christmas, literally about two days after his semester officially ended, he packed up his pickup and left. I didn’t even know where he was going, which was hard. All I knew was that he was going west. He had some family in Texas but wouldn’t tell me where he was going. I remember asking him, “Well if you have to leave, will you at least promise that we will have a goal of reconciliation?” Him telling me that our marriage was over is what jerked me out of my rebellion, and it’s what brought me back to God almost immediately. I distinctly remember that day when he told me that our marriage was over, going back to the hotel, locking myself in the bathroom and sitting on the floor sobbing and, for the first time in two or three years, praying and saying to God—"It hurts, God—it hurts." For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to wear the mask—you know, the good little Christian girl mask—I was just raw, and I remember the Lord’s small voice so loud in my heart saying, “Are you done doing things your way?” And I knew I had a choice to make. I could keep doing it my way, which was not working despite my best efforts, or I could try it God’s way, and at that point, I was smart enough to know that my way was not working out. At that moment, I surrendered, and that changed not only my life but also both of our lives.

Can you tell us how God got your husband’s attention?

One of the great things about God is that He’s in the details and always working, even when we don’t think He is or when we can’t see what’s going on. One of my favorite Bible stories is about Zacchaeus because, you know, we always sing the song about how he climbed up in a sycamore tree. still, then, that sycamore tree had to be planted however many years before Zacchaeus was ever born or to be big enough, tall enough, and strong enough to support a grown man climbing in it to see the Lord, but that’s just like God to plan and create a way when we’re not paying attention.

One thing that happened that Christmas before our trip was that we were actually at a Hobby Lobby and probably buying more Christmas decor that I did not need, and a local church group was out front passing out treat boxes. In the South, that’s a thing around Christmas. You know, people will pass out fruits and nuts and candies. It’s just kind of a thing, and I remember getting that and going to the car and breaking down in tears for no reason other than that it pricked my heart even then. However, I was still too much into the rebellion to surrender then, but when I surrendered in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, it was like God brought that moment to my mind. I remember telling my husband on the ride home from the West to North Carolina, that I needed to go to church; he asked why because we had only been to church once or twice since we’d known each other, and asked which church I would go to. I responded, “Well, maybe I should check out the church that gave us that box.” I didn’t know why, but I needed to find that church. I couldn’t remember the name of the church. I knew it started with the letter p, and in the South, there’s a church on every corner, so I was like, I’m going to have to try to narrow this down a little. I even called Hobby Lobby to see if the employer remembered a church group about eight months ago. He probably thought I was crazy and had no clue what I was talking about. Still, I ended up Googling the Baptist churches in the area that began with the letter p, and I had a result pop up. Hence, the first Sunday we were back, I went, and I remember sitting in the parking lot glued to my car—I was anxious and knew that going to church was the first big step back.

I had already repented, but walking into a church alone was different, so I mustered up the courage and marched on into an oasis. People were so kind and welcoming, and every sermon was like I thought there were cameras in my house because every sermon was perfectly tailored to what I’d been going through. It was surreal to me how God was ordering my steps. For the first time in a long time, I felt a deep hunger for the things of God, and it was exactly what I needed. It wasn’t doing things out of a checklist mentality or, if I don’t do this, I’m not a good Christian—for the first time, I craved praying and reading my Bible. Also, when I prayed for the first time, I felt I was talking to God. It was a fantastic feeling, even though my personal life was chaotic. I would go from depression to wanting to beat my husband up to wondering if I’ll be getting divorced after only two years of marriage—like, what in the world? This isn’t Hollywood. The church I started attending poured into me, and they saw someone hurting, and there was no judgment—it was just love. 

How did you two get back together?

Only God! My husband left a couple of weeks before Christmas, and it felt as though Satan had won. I thought God would save the day, and there was even a moment when he pulled off and got halfway up the driveway. He stopped the truck, threw it in the park, came running back in, and kissed me, and I thought I had my husband back—he wasn’t a stranger anymore, and it was the guy I knew, but then he went back to the truck and kept going, and I remember just sitting outside in the cold. I knew God was in control, and I had a choice to make. I could either trust God even when it did not seem possible or go back to trying to run my life, and I knew that was not an option, so I decided to trust God. It was interesting because every time I felt like it was too hard and I needed to walk away from this, God would send someone who knew nothing about what I was going through and give me a scripture to encourage me. This one lady at my church, who knew very little about what was going on in my life, gave me a towel, like one of those decorative towels that said Believe on it. I was doubting how God was going to do anything here—my husband moved out, and I had some people telling me what he did was grounds for divorce—he’s abandoned you. There’s nothing in scripture that says that if an unbelieving spouse walks away, you have to stay and that I had biblical grounds for a divorce, but when I would pray and ask God what to do, I never had peace about divorce. I even remember praying for God to let me out of this because it hurt too much holding on. I didn’t even know where he was living, but repeatedly, I would hear God saying, “Be still, trust me in the waiting.” I believe God used that time to show me that Jesus is all I needed, whether my marriage was restored or not—Jesus was enough.

It was interesting because, before this, I never realized how much of my identity as a woman was wrapped up in being a wife. It was almost like my self-worth was tied to my marriage, so I didn’t feel I knew who I was when he left. I had to learn who I was in Christ. My identity is found in Christ, not in any relationship, career, or anything else.

I found out through snooping—I’m not proud of it. It was a weak moment, and I still had passwords to emails and all that fun stuff, but I found out that he was in Washington State. I was happy to know where he was, but it scared me knowing how far he was because that’s 3,000 miles away; he might as well be on the moon, but God used that time to teach me to trust Him because I had no contact with my husband. I would try to text or call him occasionally and get a response, but it was indeed a separation.

During this time, I prayed fervently for that man. At first, the prayers were, God, please fix my marriage, please fix my marriage, please fix my marriage, and that mattered because I don’t think anyone wants their marriage to fail. However, as I grew in my faith, God began to prompt me to pray differently and more specifically for my husband. 

Instead of asking God to change him and make him come home, it became praying for his physical safety. I later found out my husband was dealing with a significant medical emergency during this time that he had not disclosed to me, but God would wake me up in the middle of the night telling me to pray for my husband’s health. It was heavy on my heart to pray for his salvation and claim him for God, and it sounded so odd. Still, I’m just like, you know what, God’s got me this far; whatever he tells me, I’m just going to go for it, whether it makes sense at the moment or not, and then I remember, you know, God would prompt me to pray for a hedge around him and growing up, I’d always heard you pray for a hedge of protection around someone. I didn’t understand what that meant, so I started digging through the Bible about where we get the phrase “a hedge of protection” and found that it differed from what I thought a hedge of protection was. Yes, it’s like building a fence around someone. Still, many times in the Bible, a wall of thorns was planted, so of course, thorns keep the enemies out. Still, they would also keep the sheep from trying to get out because the thorns would guide them to where they needed to be, and once I understood this, I said, “God—yes, definitely put some thorns around that man!” But it was more to steer him toward the Lord, and I began to pray that God would put people on his path to share Christ with him. I distinctly remember in May—he had been gone for almost six months—and I went to church on Wednesday night, and I was talking to the pastor and his wife, who were excellent; there were so many times when I crying and they were calm and ministered to me, giving me biblical counsel and I told them that I felt like I finally passed the test and finally learned that God’s enough, whether he fixes my marriage or whether I never see him again—God is enough.

I kid you not; my husband called me out of the blue the next day. I hadn’t heard his voice in at least three months, and he begged me if I was willing to take him back. He said he regretted leaving and how things had happened and wanted to know if anything was left to come home to. And I said, “Oh, my goodness, God, you answered my prayer.” I was in shock, but in my heart, I had thought—the way that I had told God this was going to work was he was going to save my husband; he was going to call me saying, “Honey, I’ve been saved—I’m sorry—we’re going to fix our marriage, and we were going to live happily ever after,” but that wasn’t quite how God decided to do it. He worked on my husband to the point where my husband wanted to reconcile our marriage, but my husband still had no interest in God whatsoever. So the school year was over in June, and he came back to North Carolina for a few weeks, and we had some very long talks, and I got a lot of counsel from my pastor and his wife just because I didn’t want to jump into anything because of what my heart was telling me. I wanted to make sure I listened to God and didn’t want to make any more mistakes. Of course, my family and friends didn’t want me to move out to Washington, and they were concerned that my husband would leave me again. I had a church, career, and support in North Carolina. I agreed with what they were saying, but in my heart, I just had an overwhelming peace that I needed to go to Washington—for how long, I did not know, but I knew where I needed to be. I waited for my niece to be born in July, then a few days later, packed up my tiny Ford Focus with everything I could fit. It took me three days, but I got to Liberty Lake, Washington, and arrived there one year to the day my husband told me our marriage was over. We began that slow, arduous process of rebuilding trust, tried to forge our new normal, and learned that rebuilding a marriage is not a happily ever after thing.

Each of us had baggage that we brought with us, and it was more than just what fit in the trunk of my car. You know, he still wasn’t a Christian. I was very different from what I was when he had left—we had to learn about each other all over again, but one of the things that happened when I moved there was, I knew I needed to find a church—a local body of believers to plug into. Of course, being so far away, I thought of using Google to see what I could find. A small church plant was only a year old, and within walking distance of our apartment, so I checked it out because it seemed pretty biblical from what they believed on their church website. It was so interesting; at the first service, I noticed they were using the same hymn book as the church I had been attending in North Carolina, and so many other things were reminiscent of home. When I walked into the church, it felt like I was home. 

I met the pastor after the service. He discovered I was new to the area and asked if my husband was a Christian. I told him, “Not yet,” but I knew God didn’t bring me to Washington only to do half of the job—whatever He does, He’s going to complete. It just so happened that the pastor was a Navy veteran with a heart for veterans. There are no coincidences with God. So I got plugged into that church, but my husband was leery of organized religion, but he forged a relationship with the pastor. They bonded over their shared experiences in the Navy, and I remember he came home one day after they had coffee together, and he said, “That guy is the real deal.” I asked him what he meant, and he shared that he’s not fake—he’s an authentic Christian. Now and then, my husband started coming to church with me without me asking him to, and he began to develop a hunger to know more. One time, we came home from church the following May, so I’d been there almost a year in Liberty Lake, and springtime in the mountains, it’s muddy, wet, and cold. We came home from church, and he was pacing the apartment to the point that I thought he would wear a hole in the carpet. My husband doesn’t cry—I think I saw him crying once when his dog died and another time when our son was born, but he was crying with tears pouring down his face saying, "I have to talk to a priest—I’ve got to speak to a priest". I told him, but you’re not Catholic. Then he said, “I’ve done too much in my life—there’s no way God would ever want me—I’ve crossed too many lines and crossed a point of no return, but maybe if I talk to a priest, they can do something.” I responded, “Well, why don’t you call Pastor Greg? He’s probably still at the church. Why don’t you talk to him?” And he said, “Okay, that makes sense.” I called Pastor Greg for him because he was so upset and asked, “Would you be willing to talk to Jason?” And, of course, he said yes and asked Jason if he could meet him on the mountain at Liberty Lake Regional Park. I was sitting at home praying because I sensed a shift in my husband. He was under such conviction and agitated. He was gone for 2-3 hours in the misty rain and mud, and finally, he came home and didn’t say a word—he took off his shoes, cleaned himself up, and went to the garage, and I was left wondering—Okay, what happened? He was gone for 2-3 hours. Did he have a Moses experience with a burning bush? Did he get saved? So, I texted Pastor Greg, who said he just asked many questions, and I answered them. I wanted to rush God, but I knew it had to be His timing and way.

About a month later, in June, I was at church. My husband had been going every week with me, which was not the norm for him. But that week, he said he wasn’t going that morning, and I was thrown off. I asked if he was sick, but he said he was fine. So, I went by myself, and right before the service started, the pastor announced that we would go down to the Spokane River for a baptism after church. It’s a relatively small church. I’m looking around like everyone here had already been baptized, and then I think, well, maybe a kid got saved, and I didn’t know or realize. At about that time, my husband strolled in with his motorcycle helmet in one hand and a bag of clothes in the other. He had the biggest smile on his face, and so did Pastor Greg, so I was a mess when he was getting baptized and so excited. I talked to him afterward and asked him when he gave his life to Christ, and he shared that after he spoke with the pastor on the mountain, he started to read the Bible later that week, and everything clicked, and all of it made sense—God is real! 

After getting baptized, his relationship with the Lord accelerated, and he would wake up in the morning and read the Bible, get involved in church, and go to Bible college to learn more scripture. God helped him with PTSD, and his quick temper began to go away. The emotional distance, numbness, and callousness started to be replaced with gentleness and more self-awareness—God was healing him, and it was miraculous. We even burned the divorce papers. God specializes in the impossible—only He can do such things and never wastes our pain.